Avalanche!
by candelight
Summary: In a horrific accident, things begin to spiral downwards for the Hamatos as Splinter pulls his four year old sons from a sewer cave in. Alive, but desperately injured, the turtles are locked in a coma.....and a desperate father is losing time fast...
1. Chapter 1

Avalanche!

、小さいもの死んではいけない! 絶望的な救助試みの破片

In a horrific accident, things begin to spiral downwards for the Hamatos as Splinter pulls his four year old sons from a sewer cave in. Alive, but desperately injured, the turtles are locked in a coma.....and a desperate father is losing time fast.....

* * *

A hand slowly tightened around his cloak's hood. A bell was dimly clanging in the background from a nearby chapel, announcing the hour before the notes finally died away.

The wind whipped about restlessly from the iron bell, making a hollow, somewhat empty ring to accompany the silence after the echoes had ceased.

Delicate, thin, but still blinding if you looked up at the sky for too long a time-snowflakes were drifting down, and people on the streets of New York were noticing. Children

peered anxiously out the window, with frantic pleas for the snow to not cease-seeing as tomorrow was a school day. Adults made mental notes to have their winter clothing

prepared, and people outside were either hurrying for the safety of a warm nearby car or building.

Or simply bustling to get home.

The figure with the cloak was hastening to get home-but not due to the extreme, rather frigid temperature.

His nerves had been constantly frayed since he had reluctantly left for required ingredients he had had to travel for Chinatown for.

Had to get back to the lair.....

Had to get back to the lair.....

Had to get back to the lair.

The....children would be waiting.

If...they weren't already-

Splinter the Rat greatly quickened his pace, heart accelerating.

* * *

Finally spotting the correct manhole, Splinter glanced about suspiciously as he raised his head to check for any human scents.

....No.....

Better hurry. Perhaps they were already awake!

Possessed of that hope, the rat leapt into the darkness, manhole cover cluttering behind him.

Ah....

It was late.

The cold, brisk air of the dank sewers was telling the rat so as he hurried along, basket repeatably knocking against his body. Splinter glanced down.

None of its contents had been spilled out....good.

As Splinter reached their home's hidden entrance, behind a few broken beams and cloth, he slipped inside, hoping beyond hope, for the first time, that his sons were busy making

mischief somewhere about in their home, and not in their beds.

But that was not to be.

A weary sigh escaped Splinter as he reached for a nearby match in his pocket, and serrated it against the very tip of his claw.

_Ssssssstttttttttttttttt._

A tiny flame burst as Splinter slowly lowered his thumb, eyes careworn as he proceeded to his sons' room, footsteps slow and heavy.

All evening, he had been extremely anxious, always putting on his cloak and taking it off again, hanging it on their old hatstand in accordance to his whims.

The rat paused outside the children's room, biting his lip.

Feeling his eyes sting with shame, Splinter slowly pushed back the rough, faded teal cloth, and walked in.

_____

The fire was still going....so that was a blessing. The room needed to be kept warm.

Not that the young ones weren't already covered with all the spare bits of cloth he could find....occasionally, the rat had to remove them, seeing as they would groan or toss in

their sleep, desperate to be rid of the extra heat.

Nonetheless, Splinter threw another log onto the flames, causing sparks to shoot upwards, and the blackened log to roll just slightly

in a barrage of white ashes. The rat coughed slightly, vaguely wishing for a chimney in their home-then slowly turned, keeping his eyes glued to the carpet as his stomach lurched.

Could he not even face them?

After two days.....

Splinter's eyes, much to his embarassment, began to pool over again as he reached for Michelangelo's hand, which was still lying at his side-exactly where Splinter had left it.

Closing his eyes, letting the hot water burst from the corners, Splinter paused as he slowly felt the rhythmic, soothing pulse in Mikey's palm.

After awhile, Splinter moved onto Leonardo, slowly putting a hand on his forehead.

No fever.....but no waking. At least the child was still warm.

After a few minutes, he reached for the next one.

Raphael. Heartbeat....still pumping, but unsteady.

Sighing, Splinter reached for Donatello last, slowly counting the seconds between each breath to himself.

Finally, the rat stood, dark orbs staring at all four of them imploringly.

"My sons....wake up."

But they didn't answer. No one ever did.

Spirits and hope sinking, Splinter slowly turned and left for the kitchen, tail dragging on the floor.

_____

Steam rose through the bubbling pot, top rattling slightly over the pan. As Splinter slowly put the sliced celery in with the stewing ingredients, the rat wrinkled his nose.

Yuck.

Total, absolute, and positive, Yuck.

Teng Shen's remedy had worked many, many times.....but it was still as repulsive to the scent in the Hamato home as it was in the Ancient One's kitchen.

Considering it was made out of six different types of liver, certain unpleasant tasting vegetable roots, a handful of chopped celery, fish eyes, and that rather nasty bit of-

Ah, well. Regardless of how bad it tasted, his sons needed to drink this. Splinter had to hurry off to Chinatown to find all of the materials....but he managed.

Extinguishing the flames underneath the pot, Splinter reached for an oven mitt and carefully pulled the iron pot off the hook.

_____

Teng Shen had once had Splinter drink this many years ago when the occupants of their household came down with nasty colds. Splinter could remember the positively dreadful

taste quite well-who could forget?-But it had worked quite effectively. Within a few hours, the rat noticed he had felt much more lively.

Pouring the mixture into four chipped mugs, the rat then proceeded to putting it on an old tray, and slowly took steps back to the room.

_____

"Drink this, my son."

Donatello was gagging slightly as the rat gently parted the scientist's mouth, and poured the light green and brown mixture inside, taking care that he did not choke.

Well, at least they didn't have to do mouth to mouth again. It appeared they could swallow-but not eat.

Don attempted to turn his head away, but Splinter gently put a hand on his head, and guided the cup back.

The child was fighting.

Well, that was a good sign.

Splinter moved onto to Raph next, readying another cup.

----

The rat managed a weary sigh as he carefully bundled Leonardo's lifeless form in a new pair of pajamas.

To think-this had been the same child who had been having such a jolly time running about with his brothers-! The rat slowly bowed his head, lowering Leonardo to his lap as he

clasped the turtle in for a embrace.

But nothing. Leo's body was still as unresponsive as a wet piece of cardboard.

The rat managed a shuddering moan, rocking back and forth slowly, in the darkness.

Helplessness.

A terrible, aching, desperate, hopeless emotion.

Were it not for him, the turtles wouldn't be in this mess....

To Splinter's disgust, hot streaks of water had fallen onto Leo's head.

Impatiently wiping them away, Splinter tucked the unresponsive boy in bed, and then collapsed on the nearby recliner he had dragged in here on the first night.

When it had all happened...just two days ago.....

* * *

_Splinter had taken the turtles on a walk one early evening, turtle hands linked. That was the rule whenever they went walking in the sewers-you stuck together, or, as Raph was_

_fond of saying, you struck out._

_The rat had glanced casually up at the ceiling...._

_And froze, causing Mikey to bump into him, Raph to bump into Mikey, Don to bump into Raph, and Leo to bump into Don. Don rubbed his nose somewhat sheepishly._

_"Ow! Master Spwiner?"_

_But Splinter had seized Raph and Mikey's palms, and began to pull as the two bewildered, latter turtles seized their opposite hands._

_Mikey attempted to pull free._

_"Master Splinter-w-what's goin o-on?"_

_Splinter turned to the confused comic with widened eyes._

_"Keep QUIET, my son!" the rat hissed, anxiously pushing the four turtles ahead of him._

_"The walls....are extremely..." he made a helpless gesture at the wall._

_Raph let his eyes trail up to the ceiling...._

_....and he groaned._

_Yikes._

_The water amounts had been rotting the old wood! Must've been the rains they had just had.....ah, well. So it was time to go home. Raph could live with that._

_They had began to head home._

_But it was then that it had..._

____________

Splinter softly blew the candle nearby out, sending the room into pure darkness as eager shadows rushed in. The only sign of light was the tiny grey plume of smoke escaping from

the melted beeswax.

_The rat closed his eyes, seeing and hearing different things...._

_Chaos._

_Splintered wood had begun to fall as they treaded....in greater and greater numbers...._

_And then, when the rat hurriedly looked up after a distant rumble...._

_"RUN! MY SONS!"_

_RUN!_

_The little ones had exploded into a panic as they had sprinted, Splinter keeping them at a pace that was causing them to stumble....._

_They only had so much time before the entire wing caved in!_

_CRASH._

_An enormous hunk of wood smashed down into the water, causing a small wave of droplets to splatter onto the Hamatos, but there was no time to comment upon that._

_Almost there.....Splinter felt fleeting hope begin to rise in his stomach...._

_....and then, it dropped like a stone at the bottom of the bay as the last bit of ceiling-in a sea of scrapings and plaster...._

_In an enormous groan, released itself from the ceiling._

_A pair of little hands appeared at Splinter's waist._

_And pushed._

"ARRGGGHHHH!"

_The rat went stumbling, rolling to the earth meters away as-_

_SMASH._

_And a gasp died on Splinter's lips as he yanked around, the entire unit falling on the C Wing._

_And his sons were no where in sight...._

______________

Splinter put his two bandaged hands together ruefully, still feeling their raw soreness....

_Their scent was in the air....._

_And, there was a trembling hand, in the midst of the woody wreck._

_The rat's heart was going on severe overload as he staggered up, and began to frantically rip away at the soggy boards._

_"MY SONS! CHILDREN, I-I AM COMING-!"_

_So saying, he grasped the slightly shaking hand, and pulled._

_Raphael...._

_Still panting, Splinter shook the limp body desperately. _

_"My son......please....."_

_A faint groan. Twenty five percent of the rat's heart eased somewhat, though still thudding at a much faster pace then usual-as he carefully laid the little boy down._

_"Wait here, my son. I must find the others!"_

_----_

_It had taken the rat six minutes to recover all four, hands becoming quite raw from their frantic overuse._

_But he had done it-and dragged out each of them...._

_Not one of them conscious._

_Splinter frantically shook Leonardo's shoulders, his small head rolling slightly like a piece of limp spaghetti. _

_"My son.....Leonardo....wake. It is alright, it is al-"_

_The rat had paused, and withdrawn his hand slightly. Something was coming off in his fingers._

_And he turned pale._

_"Leonardo?" the old rat called apphrensively, releasing the child from his arms onto his lap._

_No answer._

_Still not receiving any sort of response and wanting to get a better observation of Leo's wounds, the rat gently lifted the Leader up so that one of his arms was under the turtle,_

_and the other was cradling the back of his head._

_Unfortunately, Leo whimpered in obvious discomfort from that movement, in spite of how careful Splinter had been. Master Splinter regretfully lowered him to the ground, and_

_reached for Raphael._

_Still extremely uneasy at the rusty stain on his palm, Splinter uneasily cradled Raphael, eyes scanning the bruises that were beginning to irrupt from his body._

_"My son?" he called more urgently, lightly tapping one of his cheeks in order to get some reaction out of his cloudy grey eyes._

_Vaguely hearing his name, Raph stared up towards the voice, but his vision was too hazy to make out any features except for the dark eyes looking back at him._

_Wanting to respond, the four year old opened his mouth, only to find he didn't quite recall how to make his vocal cords function...._

_"Raphael, please.....stay awake. Please."_

_Hearing the urgency in the rat's voice, Raph's eyelids flickered...._

_....and slowly slid shut._

_----_

_That was it. No more wasting time...._

_But Splinter seized Donatello nonetheless._

_There was no time to do an examination at the lair!_

_"Donatello! Donatello, my son-listen to me-"_

_Unfortunately, the action had greatly cost the turtle._

_And Splinter noticed it when the young child's dulled eyes began to close. Clasping Donatello tightly, unwilling to drop him on the pavement, Splinter hurriedly grasped Mikey in his_

_hands._

_"Michelangelo, look at me," the rat pleaded, taking a hold of the turtle's face, feeling ill with fear by how abnormally pale and cold it was—even for a reptile._

_Mikey did his best to keep his eyes focused on his sensei, but his vision was darkening just as quickly as he was losing the battle to remain conscious._

_And the youngest turtle had always been afraid of the dark..._

_The boy didn't want to embrace the darkness that beckoned him; he was scared that he would remain in it forever._

_But his exhausted body was not giving him any other choice…Mikeyy couldn't hold back the fear-induced tears that leaked out of his eyes._

_"Oh....I...My son," Splinter said softly, his voice laced with something Mikey could only vaguely understand in this state._

_Fear._

_And regret._

_Splinter tenderly wiped away the tears from one of the young child's cheeks, only, much to his horror, to smudge more blood on it._

_"I-I never meant---I'm…Come, little one…You're going to be alright, I promise. Just stay awake for a little while longer..."_

_Mikey just stared at him, the man's voice now a hollow echo in his ears. But there was something about it that he wished he had the reasoning to understand. He just vaguely_

_realized it was comforting. And it made the fact that his body was shutting down easier to accept._

_The last thing Mikey saw was Splinter's worried eyes._

_"NO!" the old rat screamed when the boy's eyes rolled back and his body went limp._

_"No...."_

_Splinter seized Leonardo and began frantically shaking him._

_But, like his brothers, no reaction whatsoever._

_And a frantic scream tore from the rat's mouth as the sun sank below the horizon of New York, New York._

* * *

_  
_

_Well......I'm beat! Please tell me if I ought to go on!_


	2. Chapter 2

Splinter had practically flew them home at the frantic pace he had went, sprinting down the sewer tunnels.

The injuries, as of yet-seemed to be fairly minor. Raphael's swollen ankle was either a bad sprain or a light breakage-he was not exactly sure which-most likely the former, seeing

as he felt no breakage in the bone pattern-and carefully bound the wound with old rags soaked in hot water, which he changed hourly. Raph's ankle looked alright, albeit the skin

was slightly wrinkled from the constant dampness and it was still rather puffy-but fine.

Leonardo, to Splinter's distress-had a dislocated shoulder. It had been very difficult for Splinter to pop the joint back in place-and to see Leo thrash as he did so-but it too, had been

done. Bandages would not have helped, so Splinter had to be content with leaning it against a hot water bottle hourly.

Mikey, had, at least, escaped without too much problems-save from a particularly nasty bruise around his right eye-but with an ice pack left to sit upon it-it had dullened to a rather

ugly purple. It just needed time for the swelling to go down.

Donatello's shell had taken most of the damage, but his right arm was still covered in a variety of scratches. At least the rubbing alcohol had helped, although it probably stung a bit.

Three hours had gone by since Splinter had given the turtles the potion. He really couldn't call it soup, because soup is an edible thing.....and, well, people generally didn't like this

concoction, preferring to sew their heads to the carpet with copper wire first.

So far, not much had happened....though he thought their breathing was, perhaps, a little less labored and they ceased to gag much as Splinter gave them sips of water every hour

(his master's text book had warned him to not allow them to become dehydrated) which was, another good sign.

But, to the rat's discontent, they still remained sleeping.

He had tried so many techniques....it seemed the only thing to do was wait.

But Splinter heartily disliked the thought, even though he was quite aware his sons needed time.

He would wait-forever, if he had to, but this was making him anxious.

The rat pulled out his master's textbook once again, and came to a dogeared page, smoothing it out slightly with his index finger.

_In __medicine__, a _**_coma_**_ (from the __Greek__κῶμα__koma__, meaning deep sleep) is a profound state of __unconsciousness__. A comatose person cannot be awakened, fails to respond normally to pain or light, does not have __sleep-wake cycles__, and does not usually take voluntary actions._

_Coma may result from a variety of conditions, including __intoxication__, __metabolic__ abnormalities, central nervous system diseases, acute neurologic injuries such as __stroke__, and __hypoxia__. A coma may also result from __head trauma__ caused by mechanisms such as falls or __car accidents__. It may also be deliberately __induced__ by pharmaceutical agents in order to preserve higher brain function following another form of brain trauma, or to save the patient from extreme pain during healing of injuries or diseases. The underlying cause of coma is bilateral damage to the __Reticular formation__ of the __midbrain__, which is important in regulating sleep.__[__1__]_

But how long could it last? Splinter read on.

_Outcomes range from recovery to __death__. Comas generally last a few days to a few weeks. They rarely last more than 2 to 5 weeks but some have lasted as long as several years. After this time, some patients gradually come out of the coma, some progress to a __vegetative state__, and others die._

_Others die._

Splinter withdrew, closing the book with a snap. He knew perfectly well what the next part said.

Too Late.

The tears had come again.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Will you not wake?" asked Splinter wearily, reaching for Donatello again, and began unwrapping his old bandages.

Don did not answer. The rat let out a shuddering sigh as he went to the fireside again, reaching for the old kettle still hanging on the nearby hook.

Pouring the steaming water into a bowl, Splinter began to soak the bandages, wringing them tightly, watching droplets rapidly slid off the into the surface of the tiny pool. After

binding Don's arm and tucking him in once more, Splinter threw another log on the crackling embers before reaching for his scarf.

Best to keep this place warm. It was really coming down outside.

_______

The snow was good. Cold, unfeeling, but good as it silently drifted to the world-and occasionally on the rat; it helped one think a bit.

It was quiet....and it helped the rat to gather his thoughts as he sat there on the manhole opening, feet dangling in the darkness of the sewer tunnels below, head still raised

towards the morning sky.

What was he to do now? Other then....what his Master Yoshi had called praying? He knew not what that was.

But....there WAS something he could try, though he doubted it would have much success.

The rat stiffly stood, and then flipped back into the Underground.

---

Ah! Donatello had given this to him last Christmas. The rat smiled slightly as he slowly slid the little book out.

He remembered the occasion well.....the turtles had recently turned three, and they were busy scuttling about the lair, exclaiming "Mewy Chwismus" to one another.

It had been rather cute to watch....

Splinter settled into his old recliner, book still unopened in his hands.

Mikey had given him an old sketchbook that still had lenty of paper....sometimes, the rat would draw things in the random evenings with a large old tin of pencils Raph had

found....Splinter paused, then picked up his sketchbook, flicking through old pictures, muck-ups, until he had reached the one labeled, Twelve-Twenty-Fifth.

Ah....Leo had gotten him a slightly battered tea kettle that he still used occasionally.

Well, occasionally was a lie. He used it practically every evening....

....and much more then that, nowadays...

The rat sighed, squinting at the picture. He was not particularly proud of his skills-after all, the fact he had named his sons after Renaissance artists did not mean any of them was

particularly good at it. Mikey's crayon doodles were spread across the walls.

He had been unable to tell what the first one had been....well, Michelangelo HAD said it was an airplane....but, seeing as Mikey only had three fingers on each hand to direct a

crayon....

....and the uncanny skill of a three year old had resulted in what looked like a blue and white, two headed bird.

Don and Leo had decided to make one large picture of a rainbow....but, seeing as they had never seen a rainbow before, used a pattern of indigo, black, pearl, aquamarine, brown,

and grey, coming from what looked like two fuzzy cotton balls.

You still had to give them credit, though.

Raph had drawn a truly interesting picture of the sun.....though it rather looked like an orange spider with many, many extra legs.

Splinter smiled, and looked downwards at the penciled sketch.

_Michelangelo, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo-Christmas, nineteen ninety-five._

The four had fallen asleep by the fire, worn out by the days events, snoozing on top of each other. They had looked so cute Splinter almost didn't want to move them...

Of course he did, but not before making this old sketch.

Closing the book, Splinter reached for the other book still lying on the opposite arm of the nearby chair.....

It was a small book on the zen properties of....

_It was in Buddhist temples that tea drinking particularly flourished and spread. Tea is invigorating, and there is a direct expression of clarity that it calls forth. Clarity, and even giddiness, or delight. Tea helps to invigorate long meditations. There are two types of obstacles to meditation that tea might lend help to for a meditator: boredom and breakthrough. In truth, these two obstacles can be related, they can even be one and the same. When you stop chasing thoughts, the habitual mind has nothing much to entertain itself with. For some people and during some times, this can manifest as tiredness, the mind just tries to shut down the senses. Tea helps to bring more attentiveness to a state of dullness. Likewise, the experience of breakthrough in a meditation can be like an experience on a kind of plateau where nothing seems to be going on and the sense of desolation can bring dullness or sluggishness. In these situations, tea can bring sharpness to persist until the threshold has been passed through._

Anything that we eat or drink becomes part of us. Not just part of our bodies, but also part of our mind, part of how we experience our lives. 

The rat paused, scratching his head thoughtfully.

Well, that was something to think about....

And something that may work.

Splinter stood, turning to face the still sleeping faces.

He rather disliked leaving them alone by themselves....It did not seem very kind, nor fair, if one or more woke up all alone in their room after what was now three days. He was

not too worried about intruders....for they lived in a very remote area, where construction workers were very rarely heard-if it all.

Still, it was best to remain vigilant. Should anyone track them....

The rat's claws tightened somewhat.

But, if this was what it would take....

After putting an extra cover on each of the little ones, Splinter hurried out of the lair's entrance, out of sight.

First stop: The old drainage junction at 6Y 41, bend A.


	3. Gift of Labor

Forgive my lack of updating....gomen nasai! My sister wanted to pass her examination-which she did ^^-so now, I can have the computer back! Huzzah!

* * *

SPLASH.

The rat slowly drew up from the water, spluttering as he attempted to clear the water from his throat, still tightly grasping his newfound treasure.

Blinking the icy water out of his eyes, Splinter kicked against the torrents of water still flooding the raindrainage junction, gasping as he reached for an old metal pipe.

It groaned slightly as Splinter pulled himself to the cold concrete, body heaving, but it held.

Welcoming the now steady flow of air back into his lungs, the rat lay there for a minute or two before wobbily standing, trembling slightly. He groaned as he shook himself slightly,

sending water droplets splattering in all directions.

That was the problem of getting wet. His sons-no problem. Not only were they amphiabous creatures, which meant they could breathe an extra thirty nine seconds or so instead of

the human sixty, but they were easy to wipe water off of.

A furry rat, whose fur had to drip dry.....not so much.

Ah, well-he had retrieved what he was looking for. It could dry in front of the fire.

Splinter sneezed lightly.

Well....so could he.

____________________

The rat shook his head as he pulled Donatello's covers over the turtle.

Much to his dismay, his sons still slept when he came home. Sighing, he sat in front of the flickering flames, pensive as he bundled up in a towel, shooting glances beside him as he

did so.

At least it was safe. Woebegone, slightly battered....but safe.

The rat stretched, then, after staring at the ashes quietly tumbling to the floor, reached for the now dry....

Sock bear.

-------

Michelangelo had accidentally dropped his beloved bear into the rain drainage junction, between the metal purifiers last month. Splinter had had to hold back a screaming and

struggling child from leaping straight into the churning waters after it.

Which was easier said then done.

"SENSEI! My bear-it's-" Mikey put up a terrific struggle, sobs becoming evident in his voice.

Splinter had sighed inwardly, tightening his grip on Mikey's shoulders as he turned him around to face him, quietly bending to his level.

Splinter had stitched the "bear" together for a pensive Mikey one rainy day afternoon, when Michelangelo was two years old. He never named the thing officially, but he dragged

that bear with him everywhere, up and down stairs, on sewer excavation trips-till the poor bear's face was wearing away slightly. The rat told his distressed son that there had

been no need to worry; his bear had been much loved.

But Splinter had told his son quite clearly that the bear was probably lost forever wedged between the machinery.

Until Splinter had stepped into the water himself and wrestled the ridiculous thing free.

He had to admit, he felt somewhat idiotic, doing so, but at least he was able to tuck the bear next to Michelangelo once again.

* * *


	4. Gift of Charity

* * *

Gift of Charity

* * *

As people hustled and bustled under the many golden lights that hung over Time's Square, everywhere the red softness of bows, everywhere the glint of emerald holly, colors

dancing in and out of motion as you squinted at them quite tightly, the lights shimmering in twinkling rays of color....

Someone snapped her goggles over her eyes, blinking slightly as she did so. These flakes were beautiful as they fell, sparkling, but with this driving wind, they got in your eyes.

Boy.....it was really coming down. But Ever since Black Friday, people had been attacking the malls with full force for electronics, clothes, toys, make up......handbags and

whatnot......

She had only been stopping at the craft store for a moment to get that hint of midnight blue that would really finish the job. Otherwise, the painting would look wrong.

You couldn't have a late night sky peppered with stars, with snow falling over Christmas Roses, could you? It sounded a lovely idea. Lucky she had gotten that last bottle 1/2.

Rhoda sighed, pulling her dusty jade umbrella over her head, shivering slightly as the snowflakes continued to lazily drift downwards.

Boy.....was it chilly out. Winter had finally come full circle.

Rather ironic aspect, that seasons came and went as they pleased. The whole, "First Day of Summer" or "First Day of Autumn" did not seem to matter much; not even the

Winter Equinox. The weather did what it did.

The chilly season had been somewhat late, and when it came, it had come in a full, artic blast.....but the young girl had to grin.

You could never not appreciate Time Square at the holidays-especially with all this snow.

Rhoda smiled slightly as she walked into a warm bookstore, shuddering slightly as a warm breeze of the heating system ruffled through her hair. She stamped her boots on the

mat to rid herself of the icy frost, and then stepped in from behind the glass doors.

Maybe a hot chocolate at the cafe.....or a few Cherry Sours. Both sounded good, especially right now.

Rhoda checked her watch. Hmm....well, her little siblings would be hurrying home right about now if they'd finished their shopping. She still had time to kill before she called a taxi.

Might as well enjoy it.

* * * *

The cafe was warm and full of pleasant aromas, like dark chocolate and herbal tea.

Rhoda took an appreciative sip of her hot drink, careful not to burn her tongue, then stood up, stretching.

Well.....she was here, wasn't she? Might as well see if there wasn't anything of interest around the shelves.

----

Wow.....this certainly looked interesting.

A book on structural dynamics? Might as well take a look-

But just as she reached out for it, another, gloved hand nearby did the same. Rhoda quickly stepped back, smiling.

"Oh! Pardon me."

The hooded figure she had not noticed behind her nodded.

"My fault.....my fault, young miss. My apologies."

"The book is yours if you'd like it."

"No....no....pardon me again, young miss. It is, as you young people say, yours for the taking."

And the figure glided away. Rhoda blinked.

Wow....he certainly was a gentleman.

Who was he? He certainly bundled up....you couldn't see much of his face except for a pair of dark, onyx eyes.

Rhoda shivered, though she didn't really know why. The voice had sounded somewhat strained....had the man been in a hurry? That was probably it....everyone seemed to be in

this weather and time....

Blinking, she shook her head slightly as she picked up the book, and skimmed through it. Didn't look that interesting. She wished the man had simply taken it.

Well....perhaps there was still time to catch him!

Grabbing her Fruit's Basket book-she had wanted to read this one for quite some time-she hurried to the line.

But, just as she was about to put the book back down, she thought for a moment or so.....

--------

Darn it! He was going out the door!

As Rhoda thanked the cashier and wished her a good night, she pulled out her umbrella and carefully put her new book in her purse, but holding another one aloft.

Too bad this had been the last copy the store had had.....but the man had obviously bought a few other items.

Showtime. Rhoda hastily scurried out the door after the cloaked figure-

And dropped the book, receipt bookmarking it-straight into the figure's bag. The figure jumped, as Rhoda hurriedly rushed past.

"I....pardon me sir! My bad!"

Splinter simply nodded as the girl rushed off. Well....young people these days WERE always in a hurry....the rat shook his head and walked off, wondering vaguely why his bag had

felt somewhat heavier.

From behind a richly decorated pillar, Rhoda smiled lightly before whistling for a taxi.

* * *

It was a shame.....Donatello would've liked that book. Splinter sighed. But he was an already rather odd figure, all bundled up into a tiny ball of cloth. Best way to avoid being

noticed was to be polite.

Unwilling to leave the sewers anytime soon, wanting his sons to feel comforted, Splinter had handled all the daily scavenging and shopping that day, hoping to find items for his

sons.

It was lucky money was really not that bad of an object-so much was lost in the sewers every year. Of course, the Hamatos were not rich-far from it-and most of their little

possessions were meager, chipped, or secondhand. It did not too bad of an idea to get his little ones' a few Christmas items from the dollar store. However, Christmas was not

much of an emphasis on gifts in the Hamato household. It was joyous enough, with a full day's cooking after some relaxation from regular morning training, and, after eating

more then they were accustomed too-it was tradition everyone donate search through their items to put in the box for goodwill. Splinter, cloaked, would leave it at the doorway

of the shelter.

Then, after opening gifts, Splinter would simply watch them for awhile. That alone was good enough for the rat. He was dreadful with cameras-the pictures were always crooked,

blurred, or in some other way obnoxious-so he took to simply drawing.

Usually, the turtles would gather around the fire for a few minutes, usually sipping chocolate-another rare treat in their household. Candles were burnt, and it was a quiet story

telling time....well, sometimes quiet. The turtles often eagerly interrupted with questions, most of them about Santa Claus.

Raph: _How would one man know how every boy and girl is doing? What is he, some evil wizard?_

Leo: _Master Splinter.....how does Santa bring a SLED into the sewers? And what about the reindeer?_

Don_: Sei-Sei...why does Santa come on Christmas and not Hannukah?_

Mikey: _Why do Mickey and Minnie have kids in their Christmas Carol? _

Splinter just shook his head slightly, chuckling quietly at the absurdity of it all as he slid noiselessly into the sewers.

And then, the young ones would usually drop off after Twenty Questions.

Christmas was only a few days away.....

Would it be like that this year?

* * * * * * * * *

The rat entered their home, hurrying to his childrens' room.

"My sons! Are you-"

The rat's spirits sank. They still slept.

Still nothing.

Well....he wanted these gifts to be a-wait a second.

What was....?

Something else had fallen into his bag. Oh, dear....what had....

Mindful of his claws, Splinter reached for the book, little receipt fluttering inside from the drafts of the flames. Bewildered, Splinter blinked.

This was the one he had wanted to give Donatello!

But who....

The rat simply shook his head, stunned as he slid the little book in between Don's limp fingers with a small smile, before bringing his lips to whisper quietly in Donatello's ear.

"If....the first gift is that of labor....then may this be one of charity, my son."

* * *

Okay, everyone....I seriously feel sick....(Turns green and groans...) My head and stomach are killing me. See you!

* * *


	5. Gift of Warmth

Meagan paused as she glanced out of a nearby window, and then reluctantly turned her head back to the television set again, which was on the evening weather forecast.

Brrrrrr. It was really coming down out there…..with a flick of a remote, Meagan switched the screen off with a small sigh as she stretched.

Might as well get ready to go. With a small sigh, she picked up the small wicker basket nearby and staggered slightly under its weight.

If-she-could…..get this-ermph-out first!

****************************************************************************************************************************************************

A small choir was busy singing on the streets. Meagan couldn't hide a grin as she passed by.

Wasn't that the cutest thing? Too bad she didn't have a camera-because yessum, that would be a cute Christmas card.

The girl paused.

Her brothers had left her the responsibility of leaving the Goodwill Basket to the shelter this year….but you couldn't deny it was somewhat creepy out here. Ah, well.

Meagan's eyes widened in disbelief as she read the sign on the door.

Oh, crud. Closed?

Well….she'd just have to bring it tomorrow, she supposed. Or, she could simply leave it at the drop off door. They'd find it in the morning.

Wrapping her scarf more firmly around herself, Meagan hurried home, unaware that the wind was busily blasting a stray bit of fabric out of the basket, causing the little piece to flutter near Meagan's retreating back before another gust swept the scene.

_Whoooooooooooooooooooooooooooosh._

And the maroon cloth stumbled into the rain drains, straight into an icy puddle before it caught the attention of a rat.

A hand scooped the now soaked piece of fabric, surveying it skeptically.

Well…..this would do quite nicely for the final patch. He would simply need to hang it over the fire for awhile. It would be fine.

And with that, Splinter hurried back into the comforting warmth in his home.

How on earth could he bring them to a hospital? He knew that was the wisest action to take for someone with this condition, but for four MUTANT children? They would be taken away for dissection faster then he could blink.

But where could he find treatment, other then in his own home.

He was a ninjitsu master-not a physician. He could only treat them to the point of talking to them, feeding them, and keeping them warm.

What else was there to do?

What else COULD he do?

Splinter took out a clothespin and hung the crap of fabric on the line with a small sigh, heart and head heavy as it fluttered slightly in the warm breezes from the flickering of the flames, before reaching for Raphael.

If it wasn't a coma, what else could it be?

According to a book he had read, turtles and other reptiles generally hibernated in the winter, but the turtles generally only slept perhaps a bit deeper, and acted a bit sluggish in the evening and early morn.

What if everyone was simply sleeping?

Was this general hibernation? Or was this still in stasis shock?

Splinter sighed as he scooped Raphael's lifeless body into his own hands, sinking into the rocking chair once again, mindful of his tail.

Splinter reached for his small basket, bringing the small quilt of scraps closer to himself, beginning the stitching again. After awhile, letting his breath out in a quiet sigh, he glanced over the mantelpiece.

Ah…..that piece looked about dry. Splinter half stood, carefully pulling the piece off, mindful not to rip it as he began to adjoin the piece to the quilt, wincing as the gleaming needle met his fingertips once again.

Ouch! That ridiculous needle….the rat rolled his eyes as he reached for his thimble again to shield his thumb before pausing, and holding the faintly glimmering item to the firelight.

A thimble.

Such a simple object. A very, very simple one at that.

To protect, under a steady layer of metal. Splinter's hand closed over the cool little piece.

It still wasn't blissful oblivion. Even when you raked the needle over the piece, it simply could not penetrate the piece and prick what lay beneath.

Still, there were the tiny holes in the piece that showed the enticing glimmer of firelight above.

One that they could not have.

But it was the fate they were born to live and accept. Destiny, fate-all which sounded somewhat hokey in rather common conversation, led them to hide beneath the city streets.

But he was grateful enough for this life with his kin. And he would be perhaps, even more grateful if the children would only WAKE…

Still no amount of noise, coaxing, or water would turn them from slumber.

Splinter finished the piece, and bit the final thread before wrapping the small bit of cloth around Raphael's shoulders.

And then stopped dead.

The rat froze, as Raph's foot trembled slightly.

It had been some time since the children had made a voluntary movement-Splinter paused.

_Twitch, twitch._

"Raphael…"

_Twitch, twitch._

Splinter watched breathlessly as Raph fidgeted somewhat, and lay his head back, grumbling under his breath.

But still the child did not wake.

Maybe this was regular slumber! Splinter's spirits rose somewhat.

And then, his ears pricked up as he started, senses tingling as he quickly whipped about, settling Raph's small body back on the chair as a grimace grew on his face, quickly modeling into a snarl as he raised his head into the air.

Puzzlement broke into his eyes, as he blinked slightly.

There was no scent upon the air….but he DID sense a presence.

He could not doubt his senses….but…..

Silence.

Earsplitting, deathly silence. Splinter slowly backed up, flames spluttering slightly on their weak fuel.

This was nonsense. But, if there was a reason his fur was prickling wildly, as was his heart-

The rat silently shook his head before the nearby candle flame died out in a puff of smoke, spluttering into darkness.

Cold.

_He won't wake. You know that better then I, Hanken._

A chill swept up his spine as the rat jerked about, heart now hammering, back at the recliner.

Problem was, there was someone already sitting in it, holding Raphael.


	6. Gift of Love

Gift of Love

_Quote:_

_A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain  
Softly blows o'er lullaby bay.  
It fills the sails of boats that are waiting--  
Waiting to sail your worries away.  
It isn't far to Hushabye Mountain  
And your boat waits down by the key.  
The winds of night so softly are sighing--  
Soon they will fly your troubles to sea.  
So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain.  
Wave good-bye to cares of the day.  
And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain  
Sail far away from lullaby bay.

* * *

_

It couldn't be. Splinter's breath caught in his chest.

Master Yoshi sat in the chair, a faint smile on his lips as he looked downwards at Raph's still limp form, fingers rubbing circular patterns on his shell in the dim firelight. He stood,

and quietly crossed the room to the children's beds, before gently laying Raph back in bed, and tucking him in.

There was silence for a few minutes as the oriental man, still in Guardian Dragon Masters apparel, absentmindedly put a hand on Leonardo's face, cupping his cheek slightly.

Splinter staggered back, not sure whether to start exclaiming with joy or shrieking in terror-but his voice was now completely dead, mouth very dry.

When grief is powerful enough, it has a tendency to drive everything out-although some people referred to it as love.

But the shock of seeing a dead man in your home did have a way of gripping the mind.

Silence. Nothing, save for the wind quietly whistling in empty pipes outside of their home, creating a moaning echo in the empty halls, so commonly referred to as ghosts by his

terrified sons....

Perhaps, Splinter thought, as Master Yoshi gently pulled the blanket tighter around Leonardo's shoulders, he should've believed it himself.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a moment before Yoshi spoke.

"There are stars in the night sky that look brighter then the others, little one."

Splinter blinked, mouth still tongue tied.

It had been years since the rat had been referred to as such....

The man went on.

"When you look at them through a telescope, you realize you are looking at doubles. The two stars rotate around each other, sometimes taking a hundred years to do it. They

create so much gravitational pull there's no room around for anything else. You might see a blue star, for example, and realize only later that it has a white dwarf as a companion-

the first one shines so bright, by the time you notice the second one, it's really nothing but...too late."

Yoshi let out a weary sigh, managing a small smile in the flickering firelight.

"The universe rides as it does, Splinter. To die is as natural as it is to live."

Splinter finally realized that his mouth had dropped. He trembled as he shook his head.

"M-Master..."

___________________________________

Yoshi put a hand on Splinter's trembling shoulders.

"Hanaken....(Splinter)...your children are beautiful ones. You have done well."

The rat shook himself again.

"I regret t-to say that I have not. Had I been-"

Yoshi's onyx eyes twinkled.

"Why mourn?"

The rat stared at his dead father in disbelief.

"My children-they're hardly even HERE anymore! What can I do but slow the inevitable? I...I just..."

The rat broke off, closing burning eyes in shame.

To his surprise, the specter-if that was who he was-was silent before sweeping the astonished rat with a hug.

"Three gifts shall not save them. Four, perhaps.....but you miss the point, my son."

Splinter stared at the man, flabbergasted.

"It is the meaning itself-not the objects-that will save them. Focus them in their purest form, and you will retrieve a lost soul or two. This is what you have been seeking to do all

along so?"

Splinter bit his lip and clasped the man's hand.

The master withdrew, hand on the rat's shoulder.

"But....if I could help....in any way at all-"

Splinter's breathing became ragged.

"W-Would you? I do not if there is a way-"

Yoshi just smile.

"Eeeh. My grandkids-didn't get a chance to spoil them rotten as I might've wished, no? Shen would....have been far worse."

Splinter managed a watery smile of his own as Yoshi turned to the turtles again, the benign twinkle leaving his eyes.

".....I can offer my own gift, Hanaken." Yoshi turned to Splinter once again, expression serious.

"Do you remember....when you and I first came to this country....."


	7. The Sun Comes Out at Midnight

The Sun Comes Out At Midnight

Everyone, forgive me for my extremely long absence.....:( My bad, my bad!

Today, Miss Psychic. ^^ And thank you.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Quote:

"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done;  
it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known."  
- Charles Dickens, _A Tale of Two Cities

* * *

_

"There was....a small willow tree in the park that I pointed out to you?"

The rat blinked, still feeling slightly nauseous before managing a slight nod, his mouth still very dry.

"Y-Yes. But I do not know, I regret to say, if it still exists."

Yoshi's onyx eyes twinkled.

"No matter. Go and find it. There, will your answer lie."

Splinter slowly shook his head, the panicky buzz continuing in his ear, like an invisible swarm of hornets.

"I can't leave the little ones-!"

Yoshi simply shook his head.

"To fix the tangled skein, you must make more damage to properly heal," he said quietly, penetrating eyes never leaving Splinter's.

"Else, what is left but a gaping scar, in-cleverly stitched with awkward fingers? And a wound is a safe haven for infection, Hannaken."

The rat paused, feeling like tearing the fur from his body in a frantic frenzy of indecision.

Torn between his indecision-!

What if Yoshi decided to leave in his absence? What is Yoshi had NEVER even been here, and the rat had simply cracked from strain and

was simply hallucinating?

Or what if-

Splinter was abruptly startled as he felt a gentle tap at his shoulder. Master Yoshi was clasping both, face imploring.

"In spirit, I dwell here tonight," the man said quietly, burning gaze never leaving Splinter's face.

"Your little ones will not be under any danger but that of their own spirits tonight. Go, Hannaken. I will not leave you-nor the _kami."_

Splinter stole a quick glance at the turtles' motionless bodies, feeling a lump rise in his throat. Somewhat reluctantly, he turned to face his

Master again.

"Hannaken. Trust in me as you once did."

And Splinter managed a small nod, feeling his eyes sting as he did so.

* * *

The rat grasped his black scarf, and carelessly wrapped it around himself as he drew his cloak around himself tighter. He turned around,

breathing awkward and heavy.

"Master Yoshi, I-"

His heart sank.

No one was there.

All was still, save for what sounded like Donatello's gentle breathing.

Shaking his head once, and with an impatient fist-swipe at his eyes, and one last glance at the children, he hurried out of their home as

the beckoning shadows-crystalline drops still falling from the indigo sky-summoned him.

All was still, save for the wind.


	8. Illuminata

Avalanche!

Hello, everyone. ^^ Sorry for my lack of updating-this is where my tale ends.

Illuminata

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Quote:_

_"Somewhere across the winter world tonight  
You will be hearing chimes that fill the air;  
Christmas extends its all-enfolding light  
Across the distance...something we can share._

You will be singing, just the same as I,  
These familiar songs we know so well,  
And you will see these same stars in your sky  
And wish upon that brightest one that fell."

_-------------------------_

_"Hannaken. Trust in me as you once did."_

Those words echoed faintly in Splinter's thoughts as he tore forwards in the darkness, heart steadily accelerating in ready pound as his lantern's candlefire

flickered feebly.

He allowed the flame to flicker out of existence in a tiny plume of quickly disapating smoke. He lowered the lantern silently. His night vision was well trusted

enough-and he didn't want anyone to spy him. It WAS Christmas Eve, after all....some people might find it odd if he were to be found meandering around a

park.

But he knew the place well enough. How many times had his Master brought him here to gaze into the pond's depths or to feed birds, watching them

flutter and pluff feathery plumage around themselves in the autumn season, before they left for warmer climates? Splinter remembering feeling faint

amusement as he watched from where he perched on Yoshi's shoulder twittering cardinals hop about the place on spidery legs, when their bodies were so

compressed for warmth they looked like nothing but fat, little red puffballs?

That park had always been a particularly special place for the rat......but why did Yoshi wish him to go to an old willow...?

Snow was crunching underneath his running feet, puffs of breath escaping from the rat into the frosty air.

A tree....why an an old....

And then, memory struck the figure-so abruptly his footsteps ceased, and he skidded a few inches in the snow before coming to a complete stop outside the

gate, breathing ragged.

_It had been a warm, spring day. Yoshi had been quiet as he fed the pigeons-watching them eagerly peck up the seed that he had just dropped onto the _

_sidewalk near the bench._

_"Hannaken."_

_Splinter looked up, onyx eyes glittering._

_Yoshi managed a faint smile, and brushed the nezumi on the head._

_"Last night....I dreamed. Of my path."_

_Splinter had been pawing his whiskers, but he turned to face his master with a quizzical look._

_The man was looking at his own wrung hands._

_"That of the paths as a bushido, I have chosen. Those that have been given to be to walk upon by fate."_

_Yoshi watched a little bird take flight to the air, a small smile on his face._

_"And....to that isle where the sidewalk ends."_

_The rat stopped abruptly and sharply twisted to look at the man. Yoshi laughed softly, and scratched the rat behind tattered ear absentmindedly._

_"Do not fret, little one. That path does not meet me yet. But...."_

_Yoshi thoughtfully stared at the nearby waters of the pond, looking at the faint ripples that had been caused after he had carelessly tossed a stone into its _

_depths._

_"Still, I do wonder...about the nature of things. Splinter, do you remember the night before....before...."_

_His voice shook. Splinter winced, and drew closer to the man in sympathy._

_"When.....I h-had proposed to Teng Shen....and she gave me her one heirloom...."_

_The rat watched Yoshi draw out a small, wooden tea box with a trembling hand._

_"She....did insist I take the two of them. But one is enough. The other is for you, Hanakken."_

_The rat looked bewildered as the man carefully tucked one box into a nearby widow tree. He gave a small smile to the rat and resumed scratching his ears._

_"Time or weather will not ravage this wood-nor the insides. But as special as the Darjeeling is, Hanakken-what matters most is the feeling that was _

_composed in the preparation of this tea-regardless of taste of hue. The feeling-and the word of a loved one-can easily guide a lost spirit back home. Take _

_heed of that, Hanakken."_

_He said not a word after that, simply ofting to watch the nearby geese in the sky make way for the south in a V formation._

_~*~*~_

Even as Splinter's clawed hand reached inside the wood, he felt the freezing hinges.

Yoshi had been right. Time had not altered the faded wood.

Clasping the little box to his heart, a small smile on his face, he nonetheless wiped at his burning eyes before running back into the distance.

* * *

There was still no reaction from the children-even when Splinter shuddered as warm air brushed over his freezing fur. He shook himself in an attempt to be

rid of the snow-and then, hanging scarf over wood again, hastened to the stove, box tightly clasped in his hand.

Lavender darjeeling.

* * *

After giving small slips of the tea to the turtles-he did not want them to choke by drinking it all in one lot-Splinter simply sat at their side, for five long

hours.

And talked, the only other sound other then his quiet voice was the whistling of the teapot and the crackles and pops of the flames, which continued to

burn lower and lower, until Splinter remembered to restoke it.

He spoke about things trivial.

Things important.

Old stories-real and heard, imagined and tangible-things the turtles enjoyed.

Wind whistling through the pipes in a hollow ringing at the dead of night, the sound of a lonely train in the subway system sound off a horn into the dark,

and the _wmm-wmm-wmm _as metal raced across the tracks.

The rain junctions dripping constantly-sloshing against the sides like that of oceanic tides.

And four pitter-patters of turtle feet dashing about the place in reckless folly and abandon.

Splinter had to wipe his eyes at the last one.

* * *

"Little ones....I..."

Nothing. Splinter's voice cracked from overuse.

"I...."

He buried his face in his hands, even as the clock struck twelve.

It was Christmas morning.

~*~*

But, for the first time in days, Mikey moved slightly in response, and blinked blearily.

Ugggghhhhh.....

Why did he feel so.....

Well, Ugggghhhhh.....?

He cast a puzzled glance at Leonardo, who shrugged in response, looking just as mystified. Raph yawned, already looking bored as Don uncertainly glanced

at the rat.

Why....was he napping?

Finally, Mikey broke the silence.

"Splinter...?"

His voice sounded cracked as well, especially when the rat froze quite still for a few seconds, and then allowed his head to shoot upwards, staring at the four

as if he had never seen such creatures in his life.

"I'm hungry." said Mikey simply, listening to his stomach growl in agreement.

~*~*~*

Happiness.

Sheer, unbridled happiness broke over the rat as he seized each turtle in a backbreaking embrace, sobbing wildly as he did so. Raph winced.

"OW! Daaaaaad, you're-strangling-"

Don curiously tapped at Splinter's damp face.

It was Christmas morning.

So why....was Splinter crying?


	9. Epilogue: Noel

Epilogue: Noel

I was going to cease the project.....but I didn't want to leave out Leonardo. ^^ I love Leo...well, I love all of the turtles-and their master of

course....but, I, well....Leo…

(Goes red, goes red, goes red, goes red, goes red….!)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Quote:

_"The Road goes ever on and on__  
Down from the door where it began.  
Now far ahead the Road has gone,  
And I must follow, if I can,  
Pursuing it with eager feet,  
Until it joins some larger way  
Where many paths and errands meet.  
And whither then? I cannot say."_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Mas'er Spwiner...."

Leo fidgeted unhappily as the rat carefully scooped him up, still wrapped in a quilt and shawl, and finally lifted him off the bed.

Achy as he was, groggy as the turtle still was-he wished he had the right to run around as he wished. Under normal circumstances, on Christmas

morning-!

Leo could hardly imagine being asleep for such a long stretch of time. Over _two days..._

The memories were faint, but they had still existed quite vividly in detail from what the turtle could remember.

*~*

_Darkness. Absolute darkness. The taste was as tangible as the cold air itself._

_~(&*$IYYU(*&)????!!!!_

_But there had been nothing to even confine that absolute darkness as such._

_It was not even the simple occasional nothingness out of waking dreams that came from sleep-or, from what he had read in a book, surgery._

_There was nothing to know, because, quite frankly, there was nothing to remember as you were all but dead to yourself, and the world._

_It had been a night without stars. The world's berry juice stained sky remained as cloudy as Leo had ever seen it through the grating._

_There had been someone whispering a lot-but the words had been indiscernible as mush._

_~*~_

_Until this morning, when something had finally cracked._

_Shattered, splintered-an odd taste in his mouth, which was peculiar enough by itself, seeing as Leo had had no recollection of eating or drinking _

_anything._

_How long had he been in the dark? It could've been several lifetimes, or a few heartbeats, seeing as how his mind collapsed to the images of falling, _

_damp, heavy wood._

_But Leo had awoken to find himself in bed, stunned into silence._

_

* * *

_

Splinter had told them that the danger had passed-now that their nervous systems had recovered somewhat from the more extensive trauma,

even in slumber, they wouldn't slip back off.

But none of the turtles had the slightest wish to oblige as such. Heavy as Leo's eyelids were...

They weren't to take any more chances. It was enough to watch Splinter knit most of the night when he had calmed down somewhat.

-----

There were a few injuries here and there-Leo had spotted a half healed bruise on his ankle and the occasional bandage-but the fact that they

were just so STIFF-!

And now, they had to ask the rat's permission to be moved anywhere. It was infuriating.

-----

Obviously, in this state-Christmas could hardly be the same as it was last year. But it had been the little things that had made the event special.

Mikey had hugged his bear like a lifeline-well, that was to be expected. Don was happily flipping through his novel-which, Leo could not really

understand a word of....and Raph had been busy tearing apart the contents in his stocking, looking euphoric.

And although Leo had been happy with the items he had received-few as they were-even eating their usual yearly luncheon hardly disappated

the uncomfortable gnawing in his stomach.

What if Splinter was wrong?

What if the next time he closed his eyes, they would never open again?

~*~

"My son?"

The four had been sitting near the hearth as the afternoon drew into evening, playing with various objects. Needless to say, each turtle had

looked up at the words. Splinter mentally slapped himself-he had to start learning to be more specific.

"Leonardo? Will you come with me?"

Leo didn't really see any choice in the matter, seeing as Splinter was scooping him up-but relented, a small smile on his face as Splinter carried

him to the kitchen.

-------------

"My son? Has there been anything wrong?"

The rat looked worried. Leo knew-even though he could only bring himself to stare at his knees. A hand found his forehead.

"Are you....still feeling unwell?"

Leo abruptly shook his head.

"No. Just....I...."

He paused.

And his eyes swam with tears.

"Sensei-I don't wanna go back to sleep! Ever! What if I don't wake up? What if I _never_ wake up again?"

The rat paused, and drew him into a hug.

"Oh, my son."

Leo bit his lip as the tears began to slowly fall.

"These past few days...have been very frightening for me. But I cannot imagine what oblivion was like for you and your brothers."

Splinter withdrew-and handed Leo a carefully wrapped parcel.

"You forgot to open this, my son."

Wiping his eyes with his fist, Leo gave the rat a puzzled glance-but slowly undid the ribbons with trembling fingers.

~*~

A sword.

A for-real, wooden sword.

The breath in Leo's chest hitched as he glanced up at Splinter, at a loss for words. The rat chuckled dryly.

"There may come a time, my son-when you have to depend on such to rid of those who may wish to do you and your brothers bodily harm.

And....when confronting those who create darkness in your mind..."

Splinter had grasped his shoulder, and tightened slightly.

"You must rely on your greatest weapon of all."

Leo blinked.

"W-What weapon?"

Splinter tapped at Leo's crest on his chest-where his heart was continuing to beat.

"That one alone will do the job. And I will be there when you do, my son. You'll find your way home, in the end.

And you'll return to us. I know it."

Drawing up Leo again, the door shut quietly beneath them.

~*~

That night, snow fell, sparkling quietly into the distance.


End file.
